


LA Women

by villavona



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Young Avengers
Genre: F/F, amerikate - Freeform, the west coast amerikate you knew you never wanted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-28 10:40:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5087566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/villavona/pseuds/villavona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's thinking about Stefon when America joins her on the beach to go,wearing little black shorts and shrugging<br/>Kate's favorite flag-striped jacket over her shirt. She looks young and happy and she's smiling and Kate loves her so much suddenly that she's got to give her a hug.</p>
            </blockquote>





	LA Women

**Author's Note:**

> this is from when kate leaves clint's during the fraction hawkeye because i love that series and also the america from the most recent young avengers run if you wanna picture them like me.

Kate thinks America probably didn't mean to throw her off like this. 

She guesses America was drunk like the rest of them, and joking around like they had been, telling their relationship stories, and teasing Kate. 

But somehow, it's stuck with her. Case in point: here she is in California, sitting in front of her trailer trying to get a tan, and she keeps looking over at the two girls playing beach volleyball to her right. They're laughing, and Kate drifts off into one of those brief daydreams where the Latina-looking one comes over and they start talking, and they eat dinner together and spend the night together and she wakes up with the girl in her bed, and then they make pancakes together and maybe walk on the beach holding hands and kick water at each other. And it's crazy, because Kate thinks she should be more worried about this. Don't most people figure out their sexuality when they're like ten? 

Kate doesn't worry about this for too long, because she notices the Latina girl is wearing an American flag bikini, and blushes so hard Marcus throws a tube of sunscreen at her from his porch, and the cat starts screaming inside, and it turns out Lucky is stuck in the fridge. 

 

So a few days later, when Kate bumps into a Latina girl in little tiny black shorts and stompy spiky boots and an American flag sweatshirt, she doesn't really notice. Except then the girl says Kate? in such tone of shock and almost anger that she looks up, and it's America Chavez. 

"America?" she gasps. "You're here! Oh my god, talk to me!"

America's standing there with a brown paper bag on one hip, mouth slightly open, and Kate's delighted to find her so off-guard for once. She blinks twice.

"Hey, princess," she says, flatly. "Why are you in California?"

"I'm a West Coast Avenger!" Kate tells her brightly, and does some weird peace sign thing over her eye, but her fingers get twisted up and she just feels stupid. 

America often makes her feel stupid, because Kate talks too much and too fast and ends up feeling adrift and behind America's quiet, sharp power. America never says anything she doesn't mean, never missteps, always knows where her sentences are going and what story she's telling. Not that America tells many stories, because she's one of the most guarded people Kate has ever known. She probably wouldn't even tell Kate what kind of groceries she's buying. 

"What groceries are you buying?" Kate asks. 

America gives her a suspicious look. "Just groceries," she says warily, and shifts the bag to her other hip. See? Kate doesn't even know why she bothers anymore. 

That's not fair, Bishop, she thinks. She's your team. Your people. She doesn't even hate you. And that brings Kate to thinking about New Year's, and the other things that America had said. 

"How do I look at you?" she asks. 

One envy-inducing brow shoots up, and America's face scrunches up, like what the fuck?

It's a fair judgement. Kate wonders that a lot too. 

"What are you talking about?" says America. She's wearing her most bemused expression and Kate feels like a clumsy child trying to chase down Usain Bolt. 

"Never mind," she says, and the conversation is saved by the one of the mob Kate is supposed to be tracking down bursting out of the alley to their right. He's wearing the signature patterned tie that they all wear, because apparently they're stupid and want to be easily identifiable. 

"Shit!" Kate says, and takes off running down the street at full tilt after him, America Chavez be damned. She's a working woman now, and she doesn't get paid until she steals the information her client needs from the mob. Money trumps teammates. 

She sprints four blocks chasing him, cursing how tight her jeans are, before he jumps into a car and is gone. Kate looks around, for a helpful taxi. She's always wanted to tell a cab to Follow That Car! but she doesn't get the chance because America Chavez skids to a halt beside her. She's not even panting. Fuck superheroes!

"Which car?" America says. Before Kate has even finished saying "Blue Toyota" America has grabbed her by the hand and is lifting off into the air. 

"You can FLY?" Kate screams. "What the hell, Chavez!" 

America looks down, her hair whipping around her eyes. Her face looks lit up with energy the way it only ever does when there's a fight. Kate thinks she might wink, but it's hard to tell with the wind blurring her vision. She looks down instead. The car is taking a hard left down Broadway, and she screams this at America. 

They chase the car for maybe ten minutes, until it pulls over and three mob guys (with the fucking ties, seriously, how childish is that) hop out. They're pointing guns at America and Kate. Kate pulls her collapsible bow out of her bra, and nocks one of the emergency arrows she always keeps in her pants. America gives her kind of a weird look, but it's worth it, because Kate pinned two guns to the wooden door down below with one shot. Ha! Take that, mob!

The third guy is still holding the gun, but he's stunned enough not to shoot when America and Kate thump down beside him. America punches him in the gut so hard he flies backwards and hits a wall. 

They deal with the three guys efficiently, and Kate takes all their phones, the money that was oh-so-cleverly hidden in a briefcase in the trunk (is this mob even real?) and the laptop from the car. And because she's mean, America makes her drive the three guys to the beach, where she ties them to the fence. In their underwear. Kate likes her style. 

"Did you pull a bow out of your bra?" America asks.

Kate lights up, because she can talk about her detective business all day and the best investment she's ever made has been the combination bow/bra. Clint would probably be jealous he can't have one. Kate misses Clint.

That's probably why she says, "You wanna be my partner?"

America gives her the "please stop being like this" look that Loki, Tommy, and Noh-Varr get frequently. Kate's only mildly offended. 

"I'm serious," she says. "Help me with the detective business. I can add you to the flyer. It'll look so professional, we can even use an and sign."

"I've seen the flyer," America tells her. "You used Helvetica. You told me. You showed me."

Kate's on a mission. "You're avoiding the question."

America sighs. "Fine, princess, I will help you with the business. But I'm not gonna be around all the time. I have other stuff to do."

Kate cheers. 

 

"I get to fight him this time," says America.

"No you don't!" says Kate. "You fought the last guy!"

"Yeah, but you did the last two before that," America retorts, folding her arms. 

"Because you got to take out five and called it one!"

"Okay, princess," says America. "We'll ro-sham-bo for it. Loser is backup AND buys dinner."

Kate rolls her eyes. "We share all the finances already. We have a Communist system."

America just looks at her. "Ro-sham-SHOOT or ro-sham-bo SHOOT?"

Kate does scissors, America does paper. 

"Two out of three!" Kate yells, but America is already on the street below, gleefully taking out the men in suits. Kate sighs and loosely nocks an arrow. Compared to fighting the Mother plus a team of like ten evil spawning ex-significant others, the people they fight in LA are easy. Whoever is unlucky enough to pull backup duty doesn't have to do much. 

"Eat that, dickface!" America shouts down below, and the street falls quiet. Kate peeks over the roof. America's looking up at her proudly, three unconcious bodies at her feet. 

"Not fair!" Kate says. "I get the next three!"

"Now, princess," America begins, and they keep that banter through the rest of the day and week. 

 

 

Kate's phone starts ringing one night, waking her up rudely. She drags it out from under her pillow and squints at the name on the unnecessarily bright screen. It's Tommy. 

"Asshole," Kate answers. 

"Katie, my girl!" Tommy shouts, and Kate winces. She doesn't deserve this. "Kate!"

"Yes, Tommy?" 

"Katie, Katie, Katie! I haven't seen you in so long! Katie, we gotta meet up, where are you?"

"It's two in the fucking morning, Tommy, I swear," Kate starts, but he cuts her off. 

"C'mon, Kate, I miss you! What happened to you, Katie?" Tommy's practically yelling. Kate can picture him at some party, probably drunk, perched on a stool with one leg bouncing furiously. She misses Tommy, all his relentless bright energy and crazy joy. 

"I'm in California," she says, and hears Tommy's outraged yell. 

"California! Katie Kate Kate! You didn't even tell me! We tell each other everything, Kate."

"No, we don't."

"I'm coming to visit, Hawkeye! See you soon!" He hangs up, leaving a sudden silence. Kate smiles, pushing the phone back under her pillow. America's standing in her doorway, hair tousled. 

"What's going on?" she asks. She has a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, curls spilling over the sides, rubbing at her eyes. 

"Just Tommy," Kate tells her through a yawn. "He says he's visiting."

Kate can't really see, but she thinks America rolls her eyes. "Awesome." She doesn't sound completely sarcastic at least, and Kate briefly entertains the possibility that America actually likes Tommy. 

There's a silence and America yawns, turning around to head back to the couch. "Good night," Kate calls, and hears an answering grunt from America, who walks her long tan miles of leg out the door and back to the couch before starting up snoring again. 

 

Kate wakes up with the sun most mornings, because the hippie ladies she's sort of working for don't seem to believe in curtains. She rolls out of bed, pads over the three steps to the kitchenette. She makes coffee, because Hawkeyes always need coffee, and goes through the one cabinet and the mini-fridge in search of food. She finds one mostly empty bag of flour, half a box of sugar, some olive oil, and a pack of flour tortillas. 

After she's experimented with the various ways to cook with olive oil, sugar, and tortillas for about an hour, America shuffles into the kitchen. She's wearing tiny little gray shorts and one of Kate's sweatshirts, curls clumped up in a bun. 

"Did you say Tommy was visiting?" she asks, slumping over on the counter. "Did I dream that?"

"It's real," Kate assures her, smiling at America's look of anguish. "I don't know when, though. Are you around today?"

America frowns in a thinking kind of way. Kate has gotten really, really good at interpreting what America's frowns mean. She could probably tell exactly what America was feeling just by her eyebrows. 

"I'm here today," she says finally, looking up at Kate. "You have plans?"

Kate blows on her coffee and shakes her head. They've just finished up a case and she hasn't lined up a new one yet. "I'm gonna find out what the hell Speed thinks he's doing. And try to get another case. We have no food and we need money."

"I have money, princess," says America, and turns around to dig four hundred dollar bills out of her bag. Kate guesses it probably says something about how used to America she is that she doesn't even blink, just takes a bill. 

"Time to go grocery shopping!"

 

Kate's never going to admit this because she likes having people respect her sanity, but she likes grocery shopping. She never grocery shopped in her life before moving to California, but there's something satisfyingly mature about loading up her own cart and paying for it herself. America goes with her, and the whole thing takes way longer than it should because of how often Kate has to fight with her.

"Kate, I'm not human. These aren't gonna make me out of shape."

"It's bad for your cholesterol," Kate insists, tugging the Cup of Noodles box out of America's hands. "Sodium."

"You don't know shit about health, princess," America informs her idly, trailing behind the cart as Kate looks up the aisles for the one with the pasta. 

"Then how am I so healthy?"

"You're not!" America grabs the three boxes of cookies Kate's buying out of the cart in frustration. "You're about to get hella slow, princess."

Kate stares at her. "Did you just say hella?"

America crosses her arms. "Maybe."

"How do you know slang?" Kate asks suspiciously. "You're not from here."

She can tell America's relaxed, because she reacts all out of proportion fake mad. "Neither are you, asshole! And 'hella' isn't slang. Haven't you ever been to Oakland?"

"I don't even know where that is," Kate says, snatching the cookies back from America and dumping them in the cart. 

America launches into a muttered rant, half in Spanish, probably about Kate and her ridiculous lack of knowledge. Kate smacks her on the arm. 

Someone taps Kate on the shoulder and she whips around so fast she cricks her neck. America's laughing at her, but it's okay because Tommy is here, and he brought BillyandTeddy and David. 

There's a few minutes of that excited yelling and laughing and talking over each other that happens when you haven't seen someone in a while, but eventually they've all hugged each other (even America) and they're walking to the conveyor belt to buy Kate's groceries. Somehow America and Tommy have already gotten into some kind of competition, and they peel off to the freezer aisle with David resignedly trailing behind them as chaperone. Kate's left with Billy and Teddy, loading her groceries into the line of the harassed checkout lady. 

"Okay, Kate," says Billy. He's got that little smirk on his face that he gets when he's about to be an asshole, and Kate rolls her eyes in advance. "What's America doing here with you?"

Kate blinks. She expects Billy to be a little shit at this point, but that was not the question she would've expected. Maybe "why does your hair look like that" or "are you really going to buy this cheese shit" or "so how helpless are you without us". Not about America. 

Teddy pokes her in the side gleefully. "Ka-ate," he sings, like a fourth grader. "What's up with your thing?"

"What thing?" says Kate, sending him her best side eye. "She's my partner. In the detective business. We have a flyer. With--"

"Helvetica, we know!" says Billy impatiently. "You sent us a picture of it. We're not talking about that right now."

"I am," says Kate. 

Teddy pokes her again. "No, you're not. You're telling us about America, your looooooover."

Kate can feel herself start to blush, which is annoying because she blushes in every situation ever when the attention is on her. Whenever a teacher called on her in class her whole face would go completely red. Now, it just makes Teddy's grin get bigger. Billy starts giggling like a maniac, and Kate shakes her head and goes to pay for her groceries. 

Teddy and Billy come up on either side of her, putting their elbows on her shoulders. They're so in sync it's creepy.

"I'm not an armrest," she says. Tall people are so obnoxious. 

Billy and Teddy are apparently determined to keep their elbows stuck onto her shoulders forever, and Kate resorts to wriggling her entire body to dislodge them. Which is when America decides to come up behind her and say loudly, "Shake it, princess", making the four boys whistle and scream and Kate slap Tommy.

Fuck!

Kate doesn't need this. She bets the real Avengers never pulled this kind of shit. Steve Rogers would never high five about his teammate's embarassment the way Teddy and Billy just did. Captain Marvel has probably never said "shake it" in her entire life. Kate would bet her whole right hand that even Clint wouldn't be this embarassing. Actually, that's a terrible bet. She would lose her hand and her title of Hawkeye and have to return to living off her dad's money. Maybe she could get a fake hand like Jamie Lannister did. But on the other hand (Kate's a comedic genius) she could have a career in like, band management or something cool. Whatever. The point is, why can't her team be mature like the Avengers?

She's blushing again, and everyone else is laughing at her. America sticks her hand out, and Tommy gives her a twenty. Assholes. Making money off of Kate's humiliation. America better put that in the household grocery fund. 

Kate tries to stay mad at them, but the only person she's ever been able to stay angry with is her father, so she lapses back into being happy and forgets to sulk. It doesn't matter. Her team has already moved on to a whole new topic re: Tommy's hair.

"It's like a plant shat on your head," Billy says, Tommy smacking his hand away because they are the brattiest little siblings Kate has ever had the misfortune to know. "Can you even grow normal hair, or are you a mutant?"

"Same genes, baby bro!" Tommy crows, waltzing away into David. David's frowning, mildly irritated, but Kate thinks he's amused somewhere under there. 

America's rolling her eyes, and Teddy starts making out with Billy while Tommy twines himself around David, and the lady asks them to please leave the store, and somehow they end up eating at a taco truck, all laughing and swapping burritos and chattering over each other. 

It's nice, to be all together again, Kate thinks. Her boys, and America. It's nice. 

 

At some point Kate looks at the calendar and realizes it's May, and she's been gone for six months. 

"America!" she yells. "It's our six-month anniversary!"

America pokes her head out of the tiny bathroom, toweling off her wet hair. "What now?"

"Six months, sweetheart," Kate says. "Time to celebrate!"

They go out to a club because dancing and alcohol is Kate's favorite way to celebrate anything, even the anniversary of her walking out on Clint and starting up a weird partnership with her teammate. It's a new one, opened last week, and Kate thinks about Saturday Night Live like she always does whenever anyone's talking about a club. She's thinking about Stefon when America joins her on the beach to go,wearing little black shorts and shrugging Kate's favorite flag-striped jacket over her shirt. She looks young and happy and she's smiling and Kate loves her so much suddenly that she's got to give her a hug. 

"Are you done?" says America, peering down at Kate. "We have a club to get to, princess." She undoes Kate's arms from around her waist, taking her by the hand and leading her toward the motorcycle Kate found out she had been hiding for two whole months. 

Kate throws one leg over the bike behind America and scooches up close, tucking her head against America's spangled warm back and wrapping her arms securely around her waist. They only have one helmet, and Kate makes America wear it despite being unbreakable because she's not into helmet hair. 

America clearly doesn't face this problem, because when they arrive she shakes her hair out like a shampoo commercial, young and healthy and joyous and alive, and Kate sees people's heads turning to watch as they walk in. 

The bartender is a pretty girl with round curly hair and lots of gold jewelry, and Kate orders them some drinks. She flirts with the bartender while she waits, America frowning next to her, and by the time they've had two shots each Kate is relaxed and happy. America drags her out on the dance floor, and it turns out America is a really really good dancer. 

"How come we've never been dancing before?" Kate shouts at her. 

America cups a hand behind her ear, smiling at Kate with the liveliness she usually only has on the battlefield. Kate waves her off and they just dance. They go back for more shots, and this time Kate's not flirting with the bartender anymore because she's busy talking to America, and listening to her laugh, and tugging on her hair. They dance again, and drink, and dance until someone shouts "Last song!" and then they're out on the street. 

Kate breathes in the cool air, cheeks pink from the heat of the club, and lets America spin her around until they both stumble against the building. Kate looks up at her best friend, because that's what America is. She's funny and strong and powerful and brave, and smart and beautiful and gentle and kind. Her face is framed by the blur of the neon lights behind her, the one point of clarity in Kate's field of vision. Kate laughs because America's laughing, and she pulls one loose dark curl.

"Kate Bishop," says America, touching their foreheads together, "don't make me regret this." And she kisses Kate. 

Kate's kissed boys and girls before, and it's not like this kiss is so much better, but somehow it is. America has her arms around Kate and one hand in her hair and Kate thinks she's never liked anyone she kissed this much. 

America pulls away. Her hair is a mess and she looks beautiful, and Kate can't stop smiling because she's a dumb cliche and she really might love America Chavez.

"You wanna go home?" she asks. 

 

They go home, and they don't stay there forever, but it's their home until the hippie ladies get back. They go back to Brooklyn and Kate's dusty penthouse,> and somehow even that place, stinking of her father's money and her family's control, becomes home with America. 

They eat bad pizza and good pizza and they play with Lucky and sit on Clint's couch screaming at the TV while Clint and Natasha play spy vs. spy in their bedroom. They fight aliens and bad guys and they hit people and shoot people. Sometimes they lose, but mostly they win. America takes her all around the multiverse, to worlds where they were never born or they died young or they grew old together, and worlds where there are no people and only forests of forget-me-nots and shimmering dogs. 

It's not perfect, and they fight about almost everything, and sometimes America has to leave for her other life, and sometimes Kate has to go pull Clint's ass out of the fire, but they make it work. Together, they make it work.

**Author's Note:**

> this has been bothering me but i don't want to deal with it anymore so i'm just leaving it here. comments always appreciated :)


End file.
